


Things You Said

by sea_level



Series: Tumblr Ask Memes/Prompt Fills [2]
Category: Project Blue Book (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Fluff, Hospitals, M/M, Post-Canon, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:08:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21832690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sea_level/pseuds/sea_level
Summary: A series of short fics from the "things you said" ask meme. I wrote all fics with the intention that they would fit into the same timeline, and they've been posted here in chronological order.11. Things you said when you were drunk18. Things you said when you were scared12. Things you said when you thought I was asleep13. Things you said at the kitchen table16. Things you said with no space between us19. Things you said when we were the happiest we ever were
Relationships: J. Allen Hynek/Michael Quinn
Series: Tumblr Ask Memes/Prompt Fills [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1573036
Comments: 4
Kudos: 42





	1. Things you said when you were drunk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pining, being drunk

Michael suspects Allen might be drunk when he’s almost 45 minutes into an impromptu lecture about… quasars? He’s said a lot of words that don’t make sense like “accretion disk” and “interferometer”. What? For all of Michael’s inability to follow most of the one-sided conversation, he’s been able to glean three things. Whatever a quasar is, it’s 1) newly discovered, 2) shiny, and 3) really damn exciting apparently.

It’s a little embarrassing that he hadn’t caught onto Allen’s inebriation sooner. They’ve been drinking, of course, so it was always a possible outcome, but it had just passed Michael by. Again.

It’s just that Allen’s voice is soft and nice, especially when he gets really passionate, and he doesn’t usually start slurring his words until he’s really drunk. They don’t even usually get to that point. That point is reserved for the worst of cases, the ones where people die, the ones where they can’t help anyone.

But this isn’t a sad drunk time. This is a celebratory drunk, so Allen’s allowed to chatter on and on and on about stars and telescopes and brand new celestial bodies, and Michael tells himself that he’s allowed to just sit back and listen.

Allen does wear out eventually before they hit the hour mark even. He stops in the middle of a sentence, his hands up in the air. He lowers them, and then says, “Well, we don’t know that yet.”

The setting seems to come back to him in that moment, and he blinks a few times in rapid succession before looking up at Michael.

“Ah,” he says. “How long was I talking?”

Michael looks up to the clock on the bar wall and shrugs. “Dunno. Wasn’t keeping track,” he lies.

Allen sighs, closing his eyes and swaying a bit. “Too long probably. Should’ve told me to stop.”

“I didn’t feel the need.” Michael shrugs and swirls his glass. It’s only his second drink of the night, lukewarm in the time he’s left it unattended.

Allen hums and then laughter bubbles up from his throat. He opens his eyes a little and says, “Do you want to go?” He’s got that smile pulling at the corners of his lips, the one that turns all of Michael’s bones to putty when his inhibitions are down, loosened up by the alcohol. It’s the one that makes him want to say yes even if he hasn’t even heard the question yet.

“Sure,” Michael says. He lets go of his glass and then stands up. Slowly…steadily…nah, he’s good. He didn’t drink that much.

Allen did, though, and he has to lean over the table to steady himself when he stands up too fast.

“Come on,” Michael says, going over to him so Allen can lean on him. Allen’s not really drunk enough to need it per se, but he feels nice and warm tucked against Michael’s side, and no one’s really gonna question it, much less Allen.

“Love you,” Allen mumbles, or at least that’s what it sounds like. Michael knows he must have misheard because why would Allen ever say that, but just for that moment he lets himself pretend.

They walk out onto the street, and Michael considers saying, “I love you too,” but he knows Allen will remember when he’s sober and when the world’s standing on two steady feet again. He says instead, “I had a nice night. Let’s do this again sometime.”

Allen laughs.


	2. Things you said when you were scared

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one is consequence free angst + pining and brief hospitalization

“Jesus, Allen, what were you thinking?” Michael’s been trying not to pace, but he has so much nervous energy inside him that he hasn’t been able to sit still for the past hour. His brain keeps telling him to do something, to make things right, but there’s nothing he can do right now. All he can do is wait, and it’s killing him.

Why hadn’t Allen told him that he was following a lead? Why did Michael have to find out from the hospital that Allen had been shot? That he’d been left all alone in the park to bleed out and die? That the only reason he was even alive now was because some teenagers had found him and called 911 from a payphone?

“Why didn’t you bring me with you?” Michael asks.

Allen doesn’t answer, of course. He’s been unconscious for the past seventeen hours and will continue to be for who knows how many more.

He tries to hang on to his anger because that’s the emotion he knows how to control. He lets himself get upset with Allen because he’d gone out alone, with himself because he wasn’t there to help. Mimi too, and why isn’t she here? The universe, also, could get fucked, because it all just isn’t fair.

Except his anger slips, and the misery starts to seep in, and all of a sudden it’s all he can do not to break down in tears in the middle of Allen’s hospital room.

His breath catches, and the pent-up energy drains out of him like a flood. He slumps down on the chair that’s been left for him and then, after a few minutes of staring at Allen’s prone, unresponsive form, holding back tears, he scoots the chair forward. He has to do it a few times, the wood scraping a little loudly against the linoleum floor, but then he’s up against the side of the hospital bed.

He rests his right hand on Allen’s warm, exposed arm, the one on the opposite side of the bullet wound, and then places his left arm on the bed so he has somewhere to rest his head. It gives him a little privacy when the first tears start to escape.

Michael isn’t the type to cry. He tries not to make it a point of pride, but it’s become something of a silent and personal affirmation of strength. He feels guilty and weak and honestly a little broken when he realizes just how much moisture his sleeve has soaked up.

Half an inch to the left and Allen would have died. That’s what the doctor has said.

Half an inch and Michael would have never seen him again. He’s really the only friend Michael’s got left, and, yeah, it’s a bit selfish to think about it like that, but honestly, he doesn’t know what he’d do without him anymore.

With his face pressed into the bedsheets, Michael whispers, “I love you,” and, “Please come back to me,” like a fervent prayer, choked off at the end by an uncontrollable sob.

.

When Allen wakes up later, he’ll explain that he’s been having some troubles at home, that Mimi’s gone to stay with a friend, and they’ll sort things out later.

Allen will ask, jokingly, if Michael was worried about him, but then he’ll see the despair and the anger on Michael’s face, there for a brief second but quickly covered up. The humor will die on his tongue, and he’ll apologize.

He’ll promise to do better in the future, and maybe he will. Maybe he won’t.

Either way, he’ll be stuck in the hospital for a good week or so, and Michael will silently cash in a lot of favors and use all of his charms so he can be there with him every second he’s allowed.

Michael keeps this a secret, of course, brushes it off when Allen asks, because the only thing worse than losing Allen is for Allen to find out why exactly he cares so goddamn much.


	3. Things you said when you thought I was asleep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pining!  
> in a hotel room during a case

Michael’s just on the brink of sleep when Allen starts talking. It’s nothing more than murmuring at first, a little bit of added narration to the notes that he’s taking and the calculations he’s making. It’s really just a reflection on the day’s events, nothing vital, but Allen had told him that he’d needed to get it all down before he could go to sleep tonight and that Michael needn’t stay up.

So Michael had gotten in his bed and under the covers but hadn’t focused too hard on sleeping. Sometimes it was nice just to close his eyes and let things be.

Allen stops after a while, and Michael hears him close his notebook. Michael figures he’s done and about to go to sleep as well, but then Allen sighs and starts talking.

“It’s beautiful out tonight,” he says quietly like he doesn’t want to wake Michael up. “New moon, clear skies. The stars are probably radiant. I bet if I walked outside, went out to that clearing, I could see the Milky Way.”

There’s a pause again, but Michael doesn’t really hear anything except for Allen’s breathing, so it’s a safe bet to assume Allen’s just sitting there, not really doing much beyond thinking. It’s a little odd that he’s talking to himself, but Michael doesn’t dwell on it. Allen’s Allen.

“Can’t help but wonder what you see when you look up at the sky,” Allen says barely above a whisper, and Michael has to strain to hear him over the rattle of the heater. “I’ve got my perspective, of course, but you’ve been there, up in the sky. Closer to the stars than I’ll ever be. Our experiences are so…different.” The sound of fabric shifting briefly. A minuscule change in position meant to aid the process of thought.

“I want to know what you feel,” Allen continues, still quiet. “I want you to understand the same wonder that I do what I track the stars across the sky, delve deep into the great unknown. How at home I feel beyond the atmosphere as you must feel among the clouds. I don’t know why I want that so bad, but I do.” He trails off, emotion entering his voice, which he attempts to balance out by what Michael presumes is him tracing patterns on the surface of the wooden table. It’s another faint sound, continuous but new.

“There’s already so much going on,” Allen says. “It’s a little strange to give small things like that—little wants, little impulses—the time of day, but I keep coming back to them.” Another pause. “You told me that you’re better when I’m around. Do you still feel that way?”

Michael wants to sit up, to tell him yes, absolutely, but with the way the question is posed, he knows it’s not meant to be answered. He probably shouldn’t be listening, because he’s not meant to hear this, but there’s no way for him to give Allen the privacy he needs.

“I want to be the kind of man you see in me, Michael,” Allen says, “but I can’t help but feel like recently I’ve been doing all the wrong things. How can I keep you honest if I can’t even keep myself honest?” He sighs. “I feel like I’ve been lying to everyone—even myself. I told Mimi it was the job, you know. That I couldn’t just walk away from the work I was doing here, but it’s not just that. I tried to deny it for a long time, but I couldn’t walk away from you either, and I don’t know what that means. I think I’m falling in love with you, but I don’t know! I’ve never felt this way before, and it’s a little terrifying.”

Allen’s silent for a moment, and Michael can’t tell what he’s doing, but then he hears him set something down on the table, probably his pen, and the resettling of fabric, Allen leaning back in the chair.

"I guess I’m saying it now because I’m too scared to say it when you’re awake.” Allen sighs, light and resigned. “I wouldn’t even know what it would mean if I had the courage to tell you. What it would change. What I would want it to change. Maybe I’m supposed to keep it to myself. I don’t know.”

It’s silent, then, for even longer, but then Allen stands and walks towards the door of the hotel room. “Good night, Michael,” he says softly and then he’s gone.

Michael waits for a few minutes to pass after he hears the door lock shut before he sits up and stares at the table where Allen has been sitting. He’s probably out in the parking lot, stargazing as he often does.

It’s really a strange opportunity that’s fallen into his lap, to learn that his feelings towards Allen are reciprocated. Kind of. He can’t just act immediately though. Too early and Allen won’t be ready. He’ll react poorly, and then things will be even worse. Too late and he’ll have missed his chance. He scrubs his hands over his face and groans. There’s no use trying to figure it out now. He’s too tired, and any plans that he comes up with won’t be any good. He flops back down onto the bed and tries in earnest to fall asleep.

He’ll figure this out. He has to.


	4. Things you said at the kitchen table

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jump to established relationship with this one  
> some early relationship doubts with a happy resolution

It’s a cereal kind of morning. It’s the kind of day where they don’t have any early obligations, so they get to eat breakfast together, but it’s also the kind of day where they still have to go to work, so there’s no time for them to prepare anything particularly fancy.

Allen presses his spoon into the wheat mush in his bowl, the individual pieces now formless in the milk. It has no personality, but it doesn’t really taste bad, so he tries not to think about it.

Across the table, Michael loudly crunches away at his own bowl, dry. His milk is kept separate in a glass on his place mat.

It strikes Allen, suddenly, how surreal this whole situation is. He’d never even imagined having something like this strange domesticity in his life when he’d first started developing feelings for Michael. He hadn’t even imagined it when they’d just begun to navigate their then-fledgling relationship. It colors so many of their interactions now, even the things that aren’t explicitly intended to be romantic, and Allen hadn’t even realized it for months.

Now that he has, though, he can’t stop the flood of questions from entering his brain.

What happens if someone gets suspicious? How have expectations changed on him as a partner? Is the normalcy of the relationship supposed to feel this normal? And what about the future? Where are they headed? Are there going to be the traditional landmarks? Or do they just keep going as they have?

"What do you think is going to happen to us when this is all over?” Allen brings up the question aloud.

Michael freezes and then slowly lowers his spoon into his bowl. “This?” he asks cautiously.

“Project Blue Book,” Allen clarifies. “It’s going to end someday. It has to. Either it’ll be terminated or we’ll be removed from it, but one way or another, we’ll stop being colleagues.”

Michael rests his arms fulls on the table. “I suppose that is something of an eventuality. If we don’t die first, of course,“ he says, humorously. "What’s your point?”

Allen sighs and really tries to think about it. What is his point? “I guess it’s just that as long as we’re working together, it’s easy to spend most of our time together, but that gets a lot trickier if we’re not.”

“Huh,” Michael says and chews his lip thoughtfully, but he doesn’t provide any other response.

“Do you have any thoughts?” Allen asks a little impatiently. “Is this something that’s occurred to you before?”

“I suppose so,” Michael says with a shrug.

“It didn’t bother you?” Allen asks.

“I like to live in the present,” Michael says, but he doesn’t quite meet Allen’s eyes.

“And when the present changes and things aren’t as easy as they are now?” Allen asks.

“I wouldn’t say they’re easy now,” Michael says, “but I’d like to think that I’d do what’s necessary to make it work.”

What’s necessary.

It occurs to Allen, then, that this is absolutely something that Michael’s thought about before. He’s too careful to leave things up to fate, and Allen wouldn’t be surprised if Michael’s carefully plotted out each possible future and figured out ways to counter each adversity their relationship might face.

Michael is confident in his preparedness, and that’s why he isn’t worried. Allen figures that maybe he shouldn’t be either, then.

“Look. I love you,” Michael says. “You know I do. I’m not with you just because it’s convenient.”

Allen reaches across the table and takes one of Michael’s hands in his own. Maybe it’s a little too soon, a little too early in their relationship to be thinking about forever, but it feels a lot more tangible now than ever before. He leans over to press his lips to Michael’s knuckles.

Michael lights up, any residual tension draining from his shoulders, and Allen knows that Michael understands he feels the same.


	5. Things you said with no space between us

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> they break into another government facility  
> it's silly more than anything and also why i gave this thing the T rating :^|

The second Allen hears footsteps going down the adjacent hallway, Michael darts for the wall and starts checking the doors to see if any of them have been left unlocked.

The janitor’s closet is, thank god, and he grabs Allen and shoves him inside, closing the door behind them. The room is dark and small and cluttered, and there isn’t even enough room for the two of them to breathe, but they don’t dare turn on the light or move lest they knock something over or get spotted.

The footsteps get louder and then silent again as they pass through the hallway, and then the only thing Allen can hear is Michael breathing heavily in his ear.

There’s no space between them. Michael’s got his back to the door, and Allen’s back is all but plastered to Michael’s front.

“Do—” Allen starts to say, but Michael shushes him. Allen tries to shift a little so he can turn his head around to see where Michael’s looking. He doesn’t get the chance because Michael’s hands come up to hold him steady by the shoulders. The movement adds an inch of space between them.

Michael’s silent for a while, and then whispers. “Not yet. We should give it a bit. Play it safe.” He relaxes his grip.

Allen makes a sound in acknowledgment and leans back.

“Wait!” Michael whispers, but it’s too late.

Michael’s half-hard dick presses against Allen’s leg, and Michael sucks in a breath.

“Seriously?” Allen hisses. “Now?”

“It’s kind of hard not to, what with you rubbing your ass all over me and everything,” Michael complains.

“And the danger too, I bet,” Allen says, rolling his eyes.

“Leave me alone,” Michael whines. “Just—ah. Just give me a little space. It’ll go away.” He pushes at Allen’s back, and Allen sways forward a bit to give him space.

A good minute later, Michael opens the closet door slightly to check if the coast is clear and then they spill back out into the hallway.

“Is it too much to ask for you to forget that happened,” Michael asks.

“As soon as we get what we need and get out of here, I will rib you about this relentlessly,” Allen replies. “Turned on by danger. I can’t believe you.”

“It was mostly you,” Michael defends. He waves Allen around the corner and into the laboratory. “It’s always mostly you.”

Allen shakes his head.


	6. Things you said when we were the happiest we ever were

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> very post canon, post dissolution of project blue book
> 
> Original note: (Allen gets an award for work that’s connected to PBB after the details of the project go public and he’s allowed to publish work that was formerly classified.)

Allen comes back from the award ceremony beaming.

Michael waits for him outside the stone building, a cigarette hanging from his lips. Allen bounds out from the alleyway, spritely despite his age and pulls Michael into a warm and enthusiastic embrace. It’s the best they can do in such a public place.

“Happy?” Michael asks.

“Like you can’t believe,” Allen replies, mumbling it into Michael’s neck. “I wish you were up there with me on the stage. You were so instrumental in everything, it feels like a crime.”

“You know I couldn’t,” Michael says. He takes the cigarette and puts it out before tossing it into a nearby bin. He puts his hands on Allen’s back and pulls him closer for a bit and then they separate.

“I wish I didn’t have to stand up there and thank you as a colleague,” Allen sighs. “Not when you mean so much more than that to me, and not when we haven’t even worked together in a decade.”

“You know I don’t care about that,” Michael says contentedly. “Seeing you up on that stage, hearing your speech, I was so happy, I could die. I’m _still_ that happy, believe it or not.” He starts to lead Allen around the building to the parking structure and then waves down the valet to go get their car. “What you’ve done goes so far beyond me and even the two of us, and now, after all that, you’re coming home with me. What more could I want?”

“You’ve gotten sappy in your old age,” Allen says, bumping his shoulder against Michael’s.

“I’m not that old,” Michael protests, “and I was always sappy.”

“You’re 53,” Allen says. “It’s been long enough. I get to call you old now too.”

Michael snorts which devolves into a burst of more raucous laughter that he has to stifle when the valet parks in front of them and hands over the keys. Michael digs his wallet out of his pocket and tips the kid and then opens the passenger side door so Allen can get in.

“So I’m old now, huh?” Michael asks and then pulls out into traffic. “I don’t really feel like it. Being around you helps.”

“Is that supposed to be a jab at my age?” Allen asks, amusement in his voice.

“It’s a compliment,” Michael says and comes to a stop at a red light. “Definitely a compliment.” He leans over and kisses Allen lightly. They’re safe behind the tinted windows of the car. “Love you,” he mumbles.

“Love you too,” Allen says, and then adds without turning his head, “The light’s green.”

Michael swears lightly and then sits back on his seat, taking his foot off the brake and moving it onto the gas. It’s Allen’s turn to laugh.


End file.
